


Nothing Can Keep Me From You (Except An AQI Of 9)

by gala_apples



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Multi, Outdoor Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Societal Differences, Switching Positions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 00:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15874776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: In a dystopian/utopian post climate-distaster world, where only the most naive or suicidal spend time outside, Gavin does the obscene on the reg: goes outside to get laid.OrSometimes Gavin can't tell if he's lightheaded because he's so in love, or because of all the carbon dioxide in the air.





	Nothing Can Keep Me From You (Except An AQI Of 9)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is brought to you by me living in a province surrounded by fires in three directions, and the Air Quality Index being high for about three weeks straight. I might be dying, but when in doubt, turn life events into fic.
> 
> Written for the obscenity prompt on seasonofkink.
> 
> If you'd like a visual, the toy Meg uses is [here](https://www.pinkcherry.ca/pinkcherry-dual-penetrator-vibe).

It's a low smog night, so after waiting for his family to go to bed, Gavin slides on his respirator and begins the bike ride to one of the parks. There's no doubt that his lovefriends will have checked their weather app and chosen to risk it too. The four of them meet after midnight sometimes. Michael and Lindsay make references he doesn't get about it, Gavin with no idea what they're on about. Meg doesn't join in, but she knows enough to say it's some retro show, Are You Afraid Of The Dark.

The park that’s _theirs_ is very well maintained. Gavin would bet they have one of those ‘make children not afraid of the outdoors’ grant. There are a few child leaning outdoor only attractions Gavin can think of, trying to lure the first generation of microcomm born kids into the sun, or at least what's visible of it. It's a losing campaign, the kids growing up in fear, only risk-seeking parents pushing them outside. Once these kids are the adults, venturing outside will stop happening altogether.

It’s a joy to be riding outdoors. Sure the microcomm provides a velodrome for exercise, one of a thousand quasi-luxury activities meant to prevent a permanent state of cabin fever, but at the end of the day, you’re really only going in circles. Out in the mostly abandoned streets, Gavin can go wherever he wants. Yeah, he always ends up in the same place, but the choice is there.

Gavin is almost finished cutting through the open field that is part of the park when he goes fuckin’ flying, completely eats shit. Michael's laughing his hysterical hyena laugh and it takes Gavin a second sprawled and mildly concussed in the grass to realize his boyfriend has sabotaged him. He's thrown a fuckin' stick at the tire.

Gavin hears Lindsay laughing in the background. It doesn't surprise him that she's here too. Michael and Lindsay's micro communities are only a comm apart. They usually travel together.

“You guys are jerks,” Gavin proclaims, somewhere in the middle of joke and real pouting. 

“We'll make it up to you,” Michael promises.

“Oh yeah? How.”

Gavin hears the shush of rustled grass, and an outline of someone against the moon comes closer to him. Then Michael is on him, hands everywhere at once. They kneel in the perpetually dying grass and Michael, still going at him with his hands, adds his mouth. He kisses Gavin’s jawline, from his earlobe to the edge of the elastomeric half facepiece. After a moment of being warmed up like that, Michael takes it to the next level. These days, being able to unhook respirator straps without looking is as much of a skill of necessity as undoing bra hooks. Horny teenage boys everywhere practice it, just in case, despite nine times out of ten, the wearer being the one to make that move.

Michael tastes like melon when he kisses Gavin lips to lips, tongue to tongue. Unlike his own, Lindsay's microcomm has significant hydroponic space for fruit, going as far as to exporting some of it, at fat profit of course. She's offered it as gifts a few times, and Gavin will happily eat it on the spot, but it's impossible to take a whole sphere home. Everyone would wonder how he got it, and be extremely disapproving of the truth. Michael clearly doesn't have the same limits. The air is rank in his nostrils, but he focuses on Michael, and the passionate kissing that makes the outdoors worth it.

They only stop the show -Lindsay watching vociferously- when another voice rings out. “Hey scrubs!”

“Big words coming from someone wearing a hoodie with paint stains and PJ pants.” 

“Just for that I'm hooking up with Gavin first,” Meg announces.

“That's fine,” Lindsay and Michael about chorus, only beats off each other. Gavin opens his mouth to third the agreement and bursts into a series of coughs.

By the time he’s got his body back under control, Michael has sprung to his feet and Lindsay’s stepped forward. They meet in the middle to start tugging the shirts off each other. Michael backs Lindsay up to the slatted wobbly bridge connecting two other bits of play structure. Michael's still pushing and so Lindsay ducks under the chain to recline on the bridge. It can't be good for their backs, to be shaped like question marks, but as their lungs can attest to, at this moment in time, fuck bodily health. 

Gavin stands up and retreats to a bench. It's a bit further away from the pairing, but it'll be a better angle. Meg joins him immediately, carefully putting her respirator on the ground beside her feet. Gavin can’t help but want her lovely pink lips on his cock, but a gentleman doesn’t order. Hell, it’s not like Meg would take an order, either.

What he can do, however, is imply. “So, when you said hook up, how much hook did you mean?”

Meg stands just long enough to kick off her flannel pants. To Gavin’s utter delight, she’s not wearing knickers underneath. Just a bare, clean shaven pussy with the cutest peak of labia sticking out. Her puffy lips are proof she’s already turned on, that she spent the ride over thinking about fucking. That maybe she teased herself with a vibrator before she got on her bike, got herself right to the edge of coming before leaving to hook up. And now he has to wonder, is she wearing a bra? It’s impossible to tell, with the hoodie. Probably the point, innit, being able to leave the mirocomm with rock hard nipples and a wet gash and no one the wiser.

Meg sits down in more of a squat than a real sit. Her bare ass is touching the worn wood, but her heels are propped on the edge of the seat so her pussy is exposed to the world. To the world, but not Gavin. Not really. He’s at a bad angle, sitting beside her. 

“Here’s your choice, Gavin. You can stand up and watch me touch myself, but no touching. It’s a good deal. You want to see what I have in my hoodie pocket, trust me. Or you can stay sitting and touch me, and yourself, but you have to put my respirator on wrong, so that it’s blocking your sight. What do you like more? Touching? Or watching?”

That is an incredibly difficult question to answer. Gavin’s quite fond of both, actually. But he’s not wholly surprised Meg’s made this into a game. She’s quite the kinky little beast. As one would have to be, to hook up repeatedly in a situation as deadly as being outside without protection, Gavin’s not taking himself off the kink list. Gavin decides to hedge his bets. Chances are someone will touch him at some point. Michael or Lindsay will come over, or Meg will lose her patience. But if he picks touching now, he’ll never get to see what lovely little toy Meg brought with her.

“I want to watch you, of course. How could anyone look away from you?”

Meg’s mouth curls into a smile. “Good choice, sweetheart.”

Filled with anticipation, Gavin gets up. It’s a little painful to stand with his back towards Michael and Lindsay and miss what they’re doing, but it’s worth it to see the toy Meg pulls from her wide hoodie pocket. It’s a purple Y shaped vibe. The front is a dick, a bit skinnier than Gavin’s, but still enough to give a woman a thrill. The other arm of the vibrator is six or seven beads stacked on top of each other. He watches with singleminded intensity as Meg coats the phallus in lube and starts to stroke it up and down her pussy lips. Gavin’s seen that kind of shuddering before, and adores it. Uncontrollable jerking from pleasure is just about his favourite thing in the world. It’s why bondage isn’t really his thing. Who would _want_ to stop orgasmic movement?

After a minute of teasing -though is it really teasing if it’s visually obvious the vibrating touch is pushing her towards orgasm?- Meg’s thumb flicks the vibration off. She takes a second to coat both arms of the Y in more lube, and then begins the process of insertion. The dick part goes first, slides deep inside her easily. No wonder, seeing as Gavin can almost smell all the juices Meg’s producing. The beads in her ass go slower. Gavin gets that. He can be slow to get penetrated too, if it’s been a while, and it’s almost certainly been longer since Meg’s last anal than his own. Still, he envies her. It must feel a right treat, her cunt clenching down on a dick with each shocking push of plastic past her asshole. No matter what Meg and Lindsay and Michael do to him, Gavin will never get to be doubly penetrated like this.

Once everything is fully situated, Meg turns the vibration back on. The reaction is instantaneous. Her hands tighten on the back of the bench behind her. Her toes curl on the edge of the beach seat. And her hips buck forward, biological need telling her to press into the person fucking her so well. Gavin wants to be that person, would tear his hair out to be that person. But Meg gave him a choice, and he chose, and until she drops the ultimatum, Gavin will follow along.

It’s truly a sight to behold when Meg fully loses the struggle. She’s the first woman Gavin’s known who squirts, and even then it only happens occasionally. He’s well aware of how lucky he is, to have a girlfriend who can do something so stunningly sexy. Because of the way she’s positioned the clear stream jets forward in an arc before scattering into the mostly dead grass. Despite being diamond shatteringly hard, the sight of human dew on the yellowed blades makes Gavin briefly thoughtful. It has to be good for the grass, right? The come Meg’s squirted is probably the cleanest liquid to touch the park’s ground in ages. After all, any rainshower is full of pollutants. 

Gavin's just standing there, immensely hard and wondering what to suggest next when Michael and Lindsay join them. They’ve left their clothing back at the wobbly bridge, or somewhere between there and the bench. Gavin loves seeing Lindsay naked, soft curves and femininity abounding. Lest anyone accuse him of being straight and ready to settle down and procreate for the diversity of the microcomm, his eyes then fall on Michael. Hard, muscled, tattooed Michael, with his glorious erection. Gavin doesn’t know who he wants to touch first, but there’s no question that they’re each as outstanding as Meg is, and he’s struck with a sense of pride and ownership. He’s so glad that these three are his, and that he was ballsy enough to leave his building and explore the smoggy wasteland to be in the right place at the right time.

Michael throws a condom in the rubbish bin. Gavin can't tell from where he's standing if it's filled with jizz, but Michael’s not hard so he has to assume so. That mental math adds up poorly, three people having gotten off and one sad sack still ragingly unfulfilled. Seventy five percent get sweet release and he’s not one of them. Gavin’s not going to let the night end like that, especially not knowing if the next day the weather forecast will be nice enough to let them come outside. Especially not when Lindsay’s pulling Meg to stand up with her, tits to tits, toy still lodged inside her. If Lindsay and Meg get second orgasms, Gavin demands at least one.

“Michael, can I fuck you? I really want to.” Gavin’s not often the top. It’s not that Michael refuses. It just almost always seems to be him.

“Yeah, fuck yeah.”

Gavin gets naked, clothes carelessly discarded, more interested in watching Michael’s ass as he walks away to retrieve the lube. He gets on his knees again, then, expecting Michael to slot in front of him, between him and the bench. He has this mental image of Michael’s torso arching against the wood, writhing as he’s fingered in a way that no masturbation session could even aspire to hit. As far as Gavin knows, none of them are sleeping with anyone else, all of them enduring questions from family and neighbours about when they’re going to act like they’re part of the community. That makes Gavin the only person to get to finger and fuck Michael, and some deep ancient trait in his core makes him feel possessive and gleeful about it.

Real life Michael declines to follow the movements of fantasy Michael though. Real life Michael tackles him from the side, pushes him down until Gavin’s shoulders hit grass. For a moment his thighs and knees are screaming at him, legs bent in a terrible position, then he becomes aware enough to pull his legs into a decent place. As he does, Michael crawls on top of him and settles straddling his chest. Michael hands him the lube, and Gavin shrugs off the momentary role reversal. It’s a bit awkward to get the tube open, and smeared across his fingers, but Gavin manages. Then he’s shoving his hand between Michael’s A-framed legs and curling his hand up until his fingers are snugged between the tight globes of Michael’s ass. His middle finger finds Michael’s asshole first, and he strokes it from one side of his hole to the other, again and again, until Michael is squirming, knees that are pressed into Gavin’s rib cage squeezing. 

He waits to ratchet up the action. He doesn’t want to penetrate Michael until he’s dying for it. Not only does the tension do it for Gavin, Meg and Lindsay are watching, and as Gavin has learned of Meg, prolonged action is a favourite. Finally though, Michael seems to be getting angry, the emotion his way of coping with desperation. Michael’s just built tough that way. 

“Fuckin’ do it already!” Michael snarls.

Gavin does, suddenly enough that Michael’s gasping. His slick finger slides deep inside of Michael, deep enough that his other fingers are straining being bent backwards. He hesitates here too, this time not to torment Michael but to be tender and give him the chance to adjust. Thankfully Michael is a horny little rabbit. Before Gavin can start any motion, Michael begins bouncing up and down on his hand. 

Gavin escalates from there until he’s four fingers in, Michael pulled wide open. Michael’s looking in front of him, out into the night, biting his lip to offset the pressure down below. Gavin wishes he’d look at him, just for a few seconds. He wants to see Michael’s eyes, know that he knows he belongs to Gavin in this way. He doesn’t ask though. Asking Michael to show any vulnerability is a task in lunacy.

Michael decides abruptly to pull off, quick enough for it to make a squelching noise. He crawls back a few lengths. Gavin sits up to ask him what’s going on, only to witness the exact instant Michael decides to give him a lap dance. Gavin can _see_ the key turning in Michael’s head. Suddenly there’s slick heat rubbing the length of his cock. He’s been aching, hard ever since Meg started talking about her pussy. Maybe even before that. Maybe it was watching Lindsay and Michael beeline for a flat surface to use together. And maybe the seeds were Michael ravishing his mouth, that kiss that sucked the soul out of his lips. To wait that long, then get fulfillment? It’s the breaking of tension. What he tried to engineer Michael giving to Meg and Lindsay, Michael has made him give too. 

Michael grinds on him. He rides Gavin into a frenzy without fucking a single stroke. Gavin’s eyes keep closing with bliss. He keeps having to consciously pull them open, only for them to close again. They’re shut when Michael makes his move. He keeps up the grinding, but leans backwards enough that he can he can brace himself with one hand and use the other to push a wet finger into Gavin past the first knuckle. There’s no warning whatsoever and Gavin yells, but doesn’t pull away. He’s got this weird friend, Geoff, who’s always trying to pants him and stick things up his butt. It’s going to take more than a fingertip for him to flinch.

Of course, more is what Michael is trying to provide. Michael starts fingerfucking him with gusto, like he’s trying to make his boi come all over himself without having ever gotten into someone the whole time. Gavin loves it, the lightning bolts that shoot through his body as Michael prods his prostate with stunning aim, but pulls his focus as best as he can. He has to stick it out, make it through this onslaught so he has the chance to fuck Michael.

Gavin holds onto this moment for a second, the idea that he can still be in charge. Then he succumbs, gives away the hope. He raises his legs into the sky, and lets Michael notch himself between his legs. Michael’s going to fuck him, and he’s going to love it, but once again, he’s not going to fuck Michael.

Michael takes the next few minutes to pry him open. Lindsay helps, a little. She’s buried tongue deep in Meg’s cunt, assisting the double penetrating vibrator as best she can, and shows no signs she’s ever going to move. That a hundred years from now they’ll find her bones and use cutting edge forensics to prove cause of death was suffocation on smog, that she and her lover both found it worth it to die to first have sex this euphoric. And still, Lindsay is so giving one of her hands ends up on Gavin’s ass, helping hold him open so Michael can plumb the depths of him.

When all the fingers leave him, Gavin is gaping open to the night. He can feel cool air on his asshole. The shock of it has him reaching for Michael before he can finish putting a condom on. “Come on come on, you can-”

“Are you sure-”

“Yes, yes, just fill me up.” He’s thought about this before, getting come on him, someone leaving come in him. He blames Meg, encouraging all of them to try out their kinks. Michael loading him up is something he really wants, in his filthiest of hearts.

Michael pushes the spongy head of his cock against Gavin’s hole, pushes until he’s in. Gavin doesn’t provide an instant of resistance. He’s given himself to this experience now. He spreads his legs and curls them around Michael, ready to hold the man as close to him as he can.

“Fuck, shit. Move your fuckin’ legs. Don’t put your legs on my back, I think it’s scratched to shit.”

Lindsay’s doing, of course. She has a thing for digging her nails in. She’s done it to all of them, Michael just has a higher tolerance in the moment, always the last to ask her to stop. Michael can only hope no one in his microcomm notices, or they’ll be asking who he’s started settling with. 

Gavin unwinds his pinched legs and lifts them to hook over Michael’s shoulders. This time Michael doesn’t flinch, or complain. Far better than that. He starts fucking Gavin. His way in is paved with lube, but every withdrawal leaves a little more precome inside Gavin. It’s thrilling, knowing that he’ll be sneaking into his regulated, regimented home, community, and life dripping with the proof that you can only be controlled if you let someone control you. 

When Michael comes, he floods Gavin. It’s such an intense feeling Gavin lays there in the grass shuddering. He can feel his asshole trying to push it out, and instinctively he clenches up. He’s earned this spunk, goddamnit. His determination is so strong it pushes away his own impending orgasm. At least until Michael drizzles an ounces worth of lube directly onto his sensitive foreskin. A few super slick strokes and Gavin’s shoving the nape of his neck into the ground and arching up his hips. 

By the time Gavin is coherent again, Michael’s retrieved his clothes from wherever the fuck, and the girls are done too. 

“Already?” He’s whining, but who could blame him? Leaving his lovefriends is always the worst, made even worse by never knowing when the next chance to get outside will be.

“If we stay out much later we're going to need to get oxygen treatments.” Lindsay’s statement is punctuated by a racking cough.

Gavin winces. Of course there's a treatment centre in his microcomm, that’s like saying of course there’s a bathroom. It’s a basic amenity. But chances are that rumors start spreading about why Gavin Free needed treatment at three in the morning, his parents find out, and all of a sudden it becomes harder to sneak out. He’d really rather avoid making problems for future horny him. Especially now that he’s got this idea. If he buys a plug, next time he can go home certain of how much of Michael is still in him, and keep it there until he’s jerked off in the privacy of his own bed. But he can’t do that if Mum has him under lock and key.

Determined to get the last scraps of affection he can, Gavin leans in to get three more kisses, one from each of his lovefriends. Lindsay tastes like Meg, which is fucking delicious. With that completed, the only thing left is to say goodbye. 

“See you next seven AQI.” 

“See you soon, hopefully.”

“Bye Gavin.”

“Bye boi.”

Already looking forward to the next time the pollution count is low, Gavin now has to get home and deal with all the stickiness. The drying sweat. The smog residue, never gone, not on the clearest of nights. Other people's fluids. He wonders which one of them feels dirtiest. Him, overflowing with slowly drying sticky lube and come. Meg, wearing nothing underneath her clothes, unless a stretched out vibrator counts as underwear these days. Michael, back sensitive as his shirt rubs on the dozens of red scratches. Or Lindsay, covered in bite marks. He wonders which one of them are in the most danger of getting caught.

Gavin pushes his respirator on, and sighs as the smell of his lovers in his nose are overwhelmed by the rubber and disinfectant. As he begins his bike ride back, he thinks that long distance relationships can be tricky, but they're worth it, when they go this way. Maybe in the future if everything goes well they can all move into a microcomm together and provide a lot of biodiversity without ever quite committing to two pairs. It’s one of his dreams.


End file.
